


i didn't know i was lonely ('til i saw your face)

by padfootyoudog



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bilbo is So Done, Female Bilbo, Friendship, Gen, Humour, No Romance, Platonic Soulmates, Protective!Dwarves, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, maybe a hint of Bilbo/Fíli, they're a little more polite this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootyoudog/pseuds/padfootyoudog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins, and some of her many soulmarks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i didn't know i was lonely ('til i saw your face)

Bilbo Baggins, and some of her many soulmarks.

i. {dwalin - you don't look much like a burglar.}

“Perhaps that is because I am not a burglar, Master Dwarf,” said Bilbo curtly, and watched the burly man jump slightly, before surveying her with dark eyes, as she lightly touched a hand to the line of writing decorating her bicep.

“Interesting,” he said, before pushing past her to come into the large smial. She couldn’t bring herself to care much about the rudeness, because they were soulmates, and that meant that they could be a little more casual. Though it would’ve been considered extremely presumptuous by most hobbits (why, the dwarf would’ve been beaten off with a broomstick!), Bilbo just followed after him, like a lost duckling. “Where’s the food, lass?”

Of course, he would’ve had a long journey. “Just wait a moment, dear, I’ll whip something up for you,” she said, thinking that the small meal on her table would not be able to feed the large dwarf. Perhaps she could make a nice stew. That might be enough, along with the fish and some bread. And perhaps a bit of pie would do well. “Please, leave your boots at the door! I just mopped the floors, I don’t want mud getting everywhere.” The dwarf raised his eyebrows at her, looking ready to make some sort of mocking comment, but followed her instructions when her fierce expression was noted.

“Some extra food’ll be good, lassie, because this definitely won’t be enough to feed the others,” said the dwarf, and Bilbo paused, cinching her robe up tighter.

“O-others?”

“Yes, others. The wizard didn’t tell you?”

Bilbo tried to get a hold of herself before her anger overran any good sense she had. “No, I’m afraid he didn’t,” she hissed, thinking of a few choice words that she would be having with Gandalf.

The dwarf’s eyebrows rose, and he said, “Well, that’s a bit bloody rude. I’ll help you, hobbit, don’t you worry about that. As will my brother, when he eventually arrives.” 

Bilbo gave him a small smile, and said, “Thank you very much. Though it’s Bilbo, please, not hobbit.”

The dwarf simply laughed, and said, “It’s Dwalin, then. I think you’ll do alright, hobbit.”

ii. balin – {oh, you must be Miss Baggins!}

“Yes, I am Miss Baggins,” she said in reply to the white-haired dwarf standing on her doorstep, “though you may call me Bilbo, as all my friends do.” Two soulmates in one night! How odd. The rest of her soulmates had been spaced apart by at least a few months. What were the odds?

“Then, to you, I am Balin,” said he, a small smile on his weathered face, as he glanced down at the mark running down the outside of his thumb.

Bilbo grinned when she caught sight of it. “Do come inside then, Balin, as I believe your brother is busy eating me out of house and home, and he might need your assistance.”

“It certainly sounds like him.” With a chuckle, Balin came inside, respectfully hanging his cloak up on one of the wooden hooks, and, upon noticing the large boots lined up by the wall, kicked his off and placed them alongside his brother’s.

Bilbo was grateful that at least one of her soulmates had manners.

iii. fíli – {Fíli and Kíli, at your service.}

Bilbo stared for a moment, unsure what to say in reply. The mark on the left side of her ribs tingled. “That’s… nice? It’s lovely to meet you,” she said finally, knowing that her mother would be rolling in her grave because of what Bilbo just said. ‘I’m sure that I raised you better than that, Bilbo Baggins,’ is what she would’ve been ranting, because goodness knows that she had told her daughter about dwarves enough times.

The two dwarves laughed, looking a little bit surprised, and the blond one said, “You know, you’re really not what I was expecting.” Soulmates are usually from the same race, he left out. As if she didn’t know that. The two boys had names that were obviously dwarvish, and so Bilbo very much appreciated that those marks were in a place that was easily hidden. Hobbit children could be quite cruel, when they wanted to be, after all.

“What were you expecting, then?” she asked him, wondering what he would say. He pondered that for a second, scratching his jaw.

“Well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting a hobbit.” His candour brought a grin to Bilbo’s face.

“Disappointed?” wondered the hobbit. 

“Not even a little bit,” said the dwarf charmingly, blue eyes gleaming brightly, and her giggle almost made her miss the other dwarf’s words.

iv. kíli – {are you Miss Boggins, then?}

“My goodness, this night just surprises me more and more,” she says, tracing where those exact words lay on the right side of her ribs. She noticed Kíli grab onto his forearm in shock, almost toppling into his brother.

“I never expected to meet you,” he said, pulling up his sleeve and staring at the smooth cursive that was tattooed there. Bilbo leaned over to get a look too, because she always wanted to see what her soulmark looked like. “May I see yours?”

Fíli elbowed his brother, though both of them were looking eager, and Bilbo laughed when Kíli flushed darkly. “It’s alright, Fíli, we’re all soulmates. You can afford to lose a bit of the propriety.” The darker-haired dwarf sent a smug glance to his brother, which quickly turned into a pout when Bilbo said, “But my mark isn’t in the best place, boys, so perhaps we should wait a little bit before we reveal them to each other.”

Kíli looked ready to protest, but when Fíli nudged him, a stern look on his face, the younger dwarf nodded in acceptance, though he still sighed very loudly. Oh, to be young and careless again.

“Now, why don’t you two come inside? There may be some food left, if Dwalin hasn’t eaten it all by now,” she laughed, and stepped aside to let them in. They brushed carefully by her, removing their cloaks and kicking off their boots when they noticed the others lined up against the wall.

“Thanks, Miss Boggins!” said Kíli, and Bilbo blanched as she finally noticed what he was calling her, turning to look at him. He gave her a sweet smile, completely unaware of his mistake. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Please, Kíli, Fíli, call me Bilbo,” she said rather faintly, wondering what her father would be thinking of the butchering of their family name. She supposed that the compliment to her home would even things out. “And thank you, my father built it for my mother as a courting gift.” The boys gave appreciative nods (as most people did), before Fíli turned to her, asking where he could put his weapons.

Well. That was a very good question.

“Perhaps you can put them on top of my mother’s glory box, just over there. Will that be alright? Easy access,” said Bilbo uncertainly. She had no experience with weapons, and no experience with people who used weapons.

Fíli laughed at her expression, nodded and set about removing his weapons, while Kíli bounded off to find the other dwarves, after carefully placing his bow and arrow onto the box. Echoes of his enthusiastic greetings drifted down the hall, making Bilbo chuckle. 

“This has been exciting,” she commented to Fíli, watching him remove two small throwing knives from somewhere in his sleeves. She wondered how many weapons he had laid on the glory box, and how many he still had hidden on his person. After all, if she were him, she’d want some form of protection still, just in case.

“Yes, it has,” agreed the dwarf, shaking out his golden waves, making the hair shimmer in the candlelight. Bilbo found that she really couldn’t manage to look away, but Fíli kindly ignored her stare, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You’re my first soulmate, you know? The first one I’ve met. I only have a few other marks, and I didn’t really have my hopes very high of meeting anyone very soon. With our lifespans, it can be decades before we meet our soulmates.” 

“Really?” Bilbo asked, his comment having peaked her interest. In the Shire, it was normal to have at least five soulmates, since everybody was so close. Bilbo’s own gardener, Hamfast Gamgee was one of her other soulmates. His words, ‘I’m sorry, Miss Baggins, but I couldn’t help noticing that you’re pulling your carrots out too early’ decorated the skin of her calf. After that was discovered, they often spent the evenings smoking together on her garden bench, chatting about their respective days. To have only three or four soulmates was unusual. Perhaps it was a dwarf thing? “You’re about my fifth or sixth in general, and my third tonight! I don’t know what it is about Gandalf, but he must’ve brought a whole lot of luck when he came to visit this morning.”

“Well,” said Fíli, placing a hand on her shoulder. “All I can say is that I’m extremely glad that he chose you as our burglar.”

v. óin – {you're certainly small enough to be a burglar.}

The dwarf, introduced to her as Óin, looked her up and down, a frown on his face. “Um,” said Bilbo, “I’m not entirely sure if that was meant to be a compliment or not.” All she had wanted to do was set out the rest of the food, which Dwalin and Balin had helped to prepare, and then sit down and eat something, because Yavanna knew that she was hungry. I never did get to finish my fish, thought the hobbit mournfully. Being possibly insulted by a new soulmate was not meant to be on the cards, though she suspected that it might be becoming a pattern. Dwarves, after all, weren't known for their tact.

The old dwarf merely shrugged, not looking at all surprised at the fact that they were soulmates, and stuffed some food into his mouth. She cringed slightly at the loud chewing, and took a sip of her drink, which had been handed to her with a wink by Balin.

“Think what you want, hobbit,” said Óin. “Causing somebody offense doesn’t really bother you when you’re as old as I am.” The dwarf sitting beside Óin snorted loudly and clapped in on the back.

“You never cared about causing offense even when you were young!” the redheaded dwarf said, and Óin smirked.

“That is true,” he agreed, and Bilbo leaned forward curiously. She knew very well that her next question could be considered rude, but she dearly wanted to know. 

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” It was a good thing that she was on the side with better hearing, because having to shout out that question would be extremely awkward.

Óin narrowed his grey eyes at her, eyes that were surprisingly clear for someone who looked to be about Gandalf’s age. “Too old to answer questions like that, Miss Baggins.” Bilbo’s cheeks flushed at the light rebuke, and she took a large gulp of ale to hide her embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Óin,” said Balin good-naturedly, smacking away Dwalin’s hand from where it was trying to take some of his meat. “We’re about the same age, and I don’t consider myself to be too old to answer questions like that.”

Óin snorted, and said, “Alright then, lassie. I’m one hundred and sixty seven years old.” Well, no wonder he didn’t seem surprised that they were soulmates! He must’ve met most of his by now.

Bilbo’s shock must’ve shown, because then Kíli said with a laugh, “Look at her face! Her eyes’ve turned to saucers!”

“But – you look so much younger!” How many soulmates would he have met in his lifetime? Bilbo often felt a little bit envious about dwarves, as well as elves, just because they had so much more time to find their soulmates. Though, she supposed that they might also have more to look for.

“Thank you, Miss Baggins,” said the elder dwarf wryly, ignoring the chuckles that were coming from a few of the dwarves surrounding them. “How old are you, then?” He ignored the elbow in the ribs from his brother at the rude question, and waited patiently for her answer, absent-mindedly adjusting his ear trumpet as he did so.

“I’m only fifty-one,” said Bilbo mournfully, and she was very surprised at how silent the whole table went. Considering that there had been a steady roar of noise in the background for the whole night, this was quite the achievement, and she inwardly jumped for joy at having regained her full range of hearing, even if it wouldn't last long.

“Sorry, lass, I must’ve misheard you,” said Óin with a frown. “Happens a lot when you get to my age. Did you say fifty-one?” All of the dwarves began muttering and shaking their heads, most looking disapproving.

“Are you joking?” asked Kíli, dark eyes wide, a bit of cheese falling off of his fork and onto the table. “I’m only seventy-seven, and Fee’s barely eighty-one!”

“Gandalf,” said Dwalin dangerously, fingering one of Bilbo’s lovely silver knives, “are you suggesting that we hire someone who’s underage?”

Bilbo straightened up in her chair, chest puffed out, as she got ready to correct the dear dwarves surrounding her. Goodness, it was like they’d never met a hobbit before.

“I think that we ought to remember, my dear friends, that hobbits age differently to dwarves,” said Gandalf, before Bilbo could comment. “Hobbits usually only live until they’re about one hundred years old, while dwarves can live until they’re three hundred, if they wish, maybe longer. Bilbo here would be considered to be middle-aged.”  
The dwarves all dropped their various menacing expressions, and sat back in their seats.

“Well, that’s alright, then,” said Óin, shoulders relaxing. Bilbo could’ve sworn that she even saw a hint of relief in his gaze, though it was quickly hidden. “See, Balin? This is what happens when ages get revealed. It’s all too stressful for me.”

vi. glóin – {so can you fight at all, or will you just be completely useless?}

“Of course I can’t fight, why on Middle-Earth would a hobbit want to fight?” Glóin blinked a few times, before hooting out a laugh.

“Ah, Thorin’ll get a kick out of you,” he said, and Bilbo frowned. Why would they care if she could fight or not? She knew that dwarves enjoyed swordplay and the like, but why would her fighting ability matter?

“Erm, why?”

Glóin looked at her like she was being particularly thick. “Because a non-fighter is usually a hindrance when travelling. Imagine if we got set upon by orcs or the like! We can’t just stick around and protect you the whole time,” he said, but at his brother’s hard look, he hastily amended that. “Not that we wouldn’t protect you anyway, since we’re soulmates and all, it’s just that it’s always better when one can defend themselves. And it’ll probably make Thorin like you a little more.”

“But I won’t be travelling,” said Bilbo, forehead creased. “And I don’t actually know who Thorin is.”

“Of course you know him, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór,” said Glóin as if it should’ve been obvious, and though Bilbo had no clue who that was meant to be, she nodded. “And of course you’ll be travelling, lass, if you’re to be our burglar.”

Bilbo opened her mouth to protest, because this dwarf was either very drunk, or very confused, but before she could say anything, Gandalf swooped in, glass of red wine in hand. “Thank you, Master Glóin, but I believe that that is quite enough on the subject. I’m sure that Bilbo is very busy at the moment, and we don’t want to keep her from her tasks. Actually, have you tried the trout? It’s quite lovely.” And with that, Gandalf had successfully steered Glóin away, chatting loudly about various kinds of fish, leaving Bilbo sitting there with absolutely no clue as to what was happening.

vii. bifur – {(thank you for the meal, the salad was excellent.)}

Bilbo blinked at the dwarf in front of her, unable to understand what he had just said, before smiling, studiously ignoring the axe sticking out of his forehead. “Did you enjoy the food, Master Dwarf?” The dwarf’s wild eyes went wide suddenly, before babbling something else, and rubbing his shoulder excitedly. Was he speaking a different language, or was he just rambling on very quickly in incomprehensible Westron?

Bilbo looked around helplessly for some assistance, but everybody seemed occupied by either drinking or eating. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that I don’t understand,” she said, feeling terrible when his face dropped a bit.

Then, obviously having thought of something, the dwarf smiled, before gesturing to her, rubbing his shoulder again, and tapping the left side of his chest, where his heart would be. She frowned, not quite understanding what he was telling her, though he was looking at her expectantly, like it should be obvious.

“Bifur is trying to say that you’re his soulmate,” said Balin from behind her, and she jumped, spinning around to give him a good telling-off for scaring her. He simply laughed, and repeated what he had said.

“Oh! My goodness, I’m terribly sorry, Master Bifur! I did not realise,” she said apologetically. “How silly of me, of course that’s what you meant.” Now that she knew, it was obvious what he had been trying to say, and she felt quite foolish for not having realised. 

Bifur frowned, before saying something to Balin in the same rough-sounding language as before. Balin’s brow crinkled too, and said, “Do you not have Bifur’s mark?”

Bilbo blinked. Did she have Bifur’s mark? She had no clue what he had said, but it was quite possible. “I’m not sure. You see, I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I may have it, but all of my marks are written in Westron.”

Balin’s face didn’t relax, but he said, “I have heard of cases of soulmates with language barriers. Apparently the marks are translated into the first language of the wearer of the mark, if that makes sense.”

Bilbo nodded, and said, “So whatever language Bifur is speaking would be written in Westron on my skin?”

“The language we speak is Khuzdul, but essentially, yes. Now, Bifur, what were you first words to Bilbo?” Bifur repeated the words, and Balin grinned. “Bilbo, Bifur’s first words to you were ‘thank you for the meal, the salad was excellent’. Do you –”

“I have those words!” said Bilbo excitedly, clapping her hands together in delight. “Just on the back of my knee, actually.”

Bifur said something, and though the words sounded angry, his face was filled with joy.

Balin chuckled, and said, “Bifur says that he’s never had such a pretty soulmate before.” Bifur gave her a crooked grin, and Bilbo began to giggle.

“Bifur, you sweet talker,” said Bofur (at least she thought it was Bofur) as he walked past, multiple flagons of ale in his hands, and Bifur said something that made him roar with laughter, and a caused Balin to shake his head with amusement.

“Is there, perhaps, a way that Bifur and I would be able to communicate without having to have a translator? While I appreciate your help, Balin, it would be lovely if we could have conversations on our own,” said Bilbo, hoping that she didn’t sound too rude with her questions, but Bifur looked ecstatic, so she figured that she was okay for the moment.

Balin pondered the question for a bit, before hesitantly saying, “I believe that Bifur and, perhaps, his cousin Bofur could assist you with learning our sign language.”

Bilbo beamed, and said, “That would be absolutely lovely.” She would happily learn any language possible if it meant that she could see that exact look of happiness on Bifur’s face again.

iix. bombur – {my goodness, this stew is delicious!}

“Why, thank you, Master… Oh, I’m terribly sorry but I can’t seem to remember your name,” said Bilbo, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “There were just so many of you coming in at the same time, I could hardly keep up!”

The large dwarf chuckled, and gave her a comforting pat on the arm. “It’s alright, Miss Baggins. I was the cause of the pile-up at your front door, but since that’s a bit of a mouthful, you can just call me Bombur.”

Bilbo grinned. “Thank you then, Master Bombur. I just thought that stew would be simple and filling for a large group of dwarrows, since I barely had any warning that you were coming.”

Bombur flushed a little, making his normally rosy cheeks turn bright red, and Bilbo immediately felt bad for making it seem like she was blaming him. “Yes, well, I very much like the herbs that you’ve used. Do I taste a hint of thyme, and perhaps rosemary?”

Bilbo’s visible pleasure at having somebody actually recognize the herbs that she used made Bombur smile. “Sorry, it’s just always nice to have people spot the little extras I hide in my food.”

The dwarf nodded, plaited beard swinging along with his chins. “I understand,” he said sympathetically. “I cook for my whole family, and none of them realise that I’ve done anything to the meat apart from make sure that it isn’t raw.”  
“See, I have the opposite issue. All of my relatives want to steal my recipes – but I will not let bloody Lobelia Sackville-Baggins get her grubby hands on my apple pie recipe.” Bilbo glanced around furtively, wary of any eavesdroppers, and leaned in very close to Bombur. “The secret is to add a bit of lemon for tartness, and to brush the crust with egg to get a beautiful shine. I also like to put quite a bit of cinnamon in the apple mix, and maybe even a few raisins, to texture it a little more. Turns out perfectly every time.”

Bombur’s eyes widened. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Miss Baggins,” he said reverently, pleasing Bilbo with his obvious appreciation.

“Please, it’s Bilbo. And since we’re soulmates, I think it’ll be alright to share a few family recipes between us.”

ix. bofur – {i haven’t had the chance to chat with you yet, Miss Baggins, but i wanted to thank you for trying, with my cousin.}

Bilbo vaguely remembered Balin mentioning that Bofur and Bifur were related earlier, and smiled. “No need for thanks, Master Dwarf, Bifur’s an absolute sweetheart.” When Bofur gave her a large grin in return, Bilbo felt sure that they were talking about the same person, and relaxed.

“I know that, Miss, it’s just that some folks think that he’s somehow lacking, just because he has an axe in his head. He can still understand Westron perfectly well, it’s just the speaking that’s a little harder for him.” Bofur’s wide, brown eyes begged her to understand, and Bilbo gave him a small smile, before clasping her hand on his shoulder.

“Well, I think that Bifur and I are going to become very good friends, and I’ve actually been told that you can help me learn some sort of sign language, so that we can communicate?”

Bofur lit up like a candle. “Oh, that sounds like an excellent idea! We can start when we’re on the road. For now, how about a bit of a song? I’m alright on the flute, and we can get a merry old dance going!”

Bilbo clapped with glee. “Oh, yes! I adore music, let us move around some furniture and play a few songs. That’ll certainly bring the spirits up!” With a wink, Bofur took his small, wooden flute out from his tunic, and began to play a lively tune. He danced around the room, nudging various dwarves towards the living room, so that the dining room was soon empty, for which she was very grateful. She desperately wanted to get everything cleaned up, and keep a bit of food set away for the dwarf that was yet to arrive, and she couldn’t do that while everybody was getting under her feet.

“My thanks, Bofur!” she called out, and giggled when Bofur gave a trill on his flute in reply.

x. dori – {are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up?}

“I’m certain, Master Dori, I already have my assistants ready to go,” said Bilbo with a tired smile, as she gestured to Bifur and Bombur, who had volunteered themselves to help. This night was taking its toll on her, with all of its surprises, and she was being to wish that she could go and tuck herself up in her warm bed, perhaps with a nice book. Dori’s words wove around the fingers on her right hand, and she glanced down at the familiar marks fondly.

She was so lucky.

Dori eyed her with worry, and said, “Perhaps you should simply sit down, and let us take care of it all. You’re looking a bit weary, my dear.”

“No, no, I couldn’t possibly! This is my home, Master Dori, of course I need to help with the cleaning!” said Bilbo. “It would be terribly rude to leave my guests to do it, just because I’m a bit tired. You lot have been travelling for Aüle knows how long, so you should all be relaxing.”

Dori nodded, and clapped her on the shoulder. “Alright, then, Miss Baggins, if you insist. But if you do need any assistance, just give me a shout. Soulmates help each other out, after all.” 

Bilbo laughed, and said, “I doubt that you’d be able to hear me over the music, to be honest, but thank you.”

He chuckled. “Oh, you get used to it after a while, lass. We dwarves are an energetic bunch, and we do love our song and dance. It’s been said that that’s how Óin lost his hearing, at a dance that got far too boisterous,” said the dwarf with a wink. “You should join in once you’re done, it’s very entertaining.” Bilbo cringed at the thought. She really wasn’t the most spectacular of dancers, and she certainly wasn’t going to show off exactly how clumsy she could be to all of her soulmates. They could discover that on their own.

She gave a non-committal hum, and said, “I may, later on.” Dori gave her a nod, silver beard-braid swinging distractingly, before he turned back to join the others.

xi. nori – {so, you’re my replacement, then?}

Bilbo paused, a stack of dishes in her hands. Bifur was nearby, beginning to assist with the washing, while Bombur was helping to dry all the dishes, setting them all gently on the countertop when he was done. “Replacement for what?” she asked, wondering if this was some elaborate joke she was getting caught up in. First everybody was mentioning some journey, and then she had been called ‘burglar’ multiple times… it was enough to make somebody’s head spin!

Nori – at least, she thought that was his name – laughed, and gave her a wink. “It’s alright, love, we all know what you do. It’s no secret here.”

Bilbo’s smile froze on her face, and she said quite calmly, “I’m sorry, what is it you think I do?” Bifur stopped in the washing of dishes, and shot a warning look to Nori, who simply raised his hands up in surrender. She frowned, not understanding where he was going with this, but not particularly liking what he was saying. Soulmates weren’t meant to cause pain or offense. They were meant to be a part of you, someone who could understand you perfectly.

“No worries, we get it. No judgement coming from me, Miss Baggins. We all have our urges,” said Nori, a placating tone to his voice, blue eyes wide and sincere. Her hackles were raised immediately, and she put down the stack of plates by the sink, before folding her arms across her chest.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Bilbo asked, voice rising slightly, though still unable to be heard above the lively music coming through from the living room. She could hear stamping and clapping, and longed to join in, if only to avoid this conversation.

Nori looked surprised, and nervously tugged on one of the braids in his beard. “Nothing! I’m just saying that it’s alright –”

“Are you insinuating that I am a whore, Master Dwarf?” She didn’t know how the dwarves treated their women, but she assumed it would be with respect. This was as far from it as you could possibly get.

Nori took a step back, as if he had been shoved, and said, “No, no, I’m saying that it’s alright that you’re a thief!”

Bilbo saw red. She couldn’t say that she regretted her actions, either.

“Oh Mahal,” yelped Bombur when her hand connected with Nori’s face with a resounding crack. Nori didn’t even appear to feel it, head barely moving from the force. Bifur murmured something that sounded vaguely approving, and his cousin snorted.

“Listen carefully, Master Dwarf,” said Bilbo, eyes narrowing to slits. “Soulmate or no, I will have you removed from my home if you continue to insult me.”

“Sweet Mahal,” groaned Nori, “Apologies, Miss Baggins, I’m saying this wrong. All I wanted to say is that we share an occupation, and that if you want to perhaps compare tactics, we could have a chat. I certainly did not mean to call you a… that.” He then muttered something under his breath about always messing up the first meetings.

Bilbo regarded him with suspicion. “What occupation do we share, then? Because as far as I know, the only thing we have in common is that we’re soulmates.”

Nori looked very pained, a blush crawling up his cheeks. He was obviously very embarrassed that she didn’t understand what he was saying, and if she wasn't so annoyed, she might feel sorry for him. Bombur said, “Go on then, silver tongue.” Bifur roared with laughter, and Bilbo couldn’t help but feel a bit of amusement, though she was still highly unimpressed with the dwarf in front of her.

“Well, we’re both thieves. Or, I s’pose you’d rather be called a burglar,” explained Nori, to her dissatisfaction. People had been saying that all night, yet she had never stolen a thing in her life, and she wasn’t planning to start anytime soon. She couldn’t figure out where they had gotten that idea.

Bilbo sighed loudly. “Master Nori, please. Before you offend me any further, go and dance with the others.” Or rather, before she clobbered him across the head with her favourite frying pan.

“Right, of course. Sorry again.” With that, Nori slunk out into the living room, the bright red of his neck visible to all of them.

With a huff, Bilbo turned back to the dishes, and calmly began to stack them by the sink again, ignoring Bifur’s gentle pat on the back. Bebother and confusticate these dwarves.

xii. ori – {oh, do you do crochet?}

She spun around to see a young dwarf, perhaps Dori’s brother, holding up one of her doilies, and studying it with interest. “It’s my little hobby, just something I do in the evenings. My mother taught me.” The look of shock and delight on the little dwarf’s face made her laugh, and she wondered if she was his first soulmate, or if he just always had the same reaction. 

“That’s lovely,” said the dwarf, once he had gotten his feelings under control. “Crafts taught by family always turn out best, in my opinion.”

“Thank you, Master…” she paused, hoping that he would give his name, so that she wouldn’t have to embarrass herself by asking full out, especially since he was so adorably earnest. 

“Oh, please, just call me Ori,” he said, and Bilbo gave him a soft smile. He nervously tugged on his grey, knitted scarf, but returned the smile.

“Then to you, I’m Bilbo.” Ori’s pleased flush was so endearing, and she guided him to take a seat in her mother’s old armchair, while she sat in her father’s. The other dwarves were beginning to wind down, tiring more quickly after their many days of travel, and their many mugs of ale. A wandering Dori came past, with the offer of a cup of tea, and both of them declined.

After a moment more of comfortable silence, Bilbo said, “You know, you’re the one who made me take up crochet. Your words.”

Ori perked up with interest, leaning forward in the armchair and resting his clasped hands on his knees. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed. “I was born with almost all of my marks, so I thought that if you were to comment on my crochet, I should be fairly good at it. I began to learn as soon as I could read my marks.”

“I haven’t yet learnt to crochet, but I’m alright at knitting,” he said to her. Well, that explained the abundance of knitted items on his person.

“Oh, perhaps if I teach you hot to do crochet, you could teach me how to knit? My mother died before she could teach me, and it would be so good to learn, if you’re willing.”

“That sounds like a fair exchange,” said Ori. “It’ll give us something to do on the road, at least.”

“Oh, but I won’t be joining you when you – ” Bilbo was interrupted by three loud knocks on the front door, and, after sending Ori an apologetic look, got up to open it, only to find that Gandalf had beaten her to the door. All of the dwarves were standing around, eagerly awaiting the entrance of the last dwarf. It was completely silent.

The door swung open to reveal a tall dwarf, with dark hair and eyes as blue as the sky. Bilbo began to feel a little flustered at his handsomeness, before he opened his mouth and ruined it. “Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

“Mark? What mark? Hamfast painted that last week!” said Bilbo, bewildered. When she saw the vaguely guilty look on Gandalf’s face, she knew. After all, who else could it have been? Oh, and Hamfast had done such a beautiful job too.

“Apologies, Bilbo, but there is a mark,” Gandalf said, “I put it there myself. But, onto other matters. Allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin looked her over with an assessing eye, making her feel very thankful for the fact that she had changed from her patchwork robe, before turning to the wizard. “So, this is the hobbit. Has she done much fighting?” he said, and Bilbo almost wanted to slap him, because she would not be ignored in her own home.

The dwarves all bristled at the slight, and Bifur let out a low growl. Thorin looked extremely confused, especially when he noticed Fíli and Kíli flanking her, stances slightly defensive, though their faces remained relaxed.

“Thorin, I wouldn’t insult your kind host by ignoring her, if I were you,” murmured Gandalf, a glint of amusement obvious in his eyes. “She has been cooking and cleaning all day in preparation for your arrival, and your company has been fed and watered by dear Bilbo. Perhaps some gratitude would be in order?”

Thorin didn’t flinch at the scolding, and merely pinned the wizard with a curious stare, before finally facing Bilbo properly. 

xiii. thorin – {what is your weapon of choice?}

Oh, no. She recognised those words. She saw them every time she looked in a mirror, bold letters stark on her collarbone, and she still didn’t know how to answer.  
This rude git could not possibly be her soulmate. What had she done to deserve somebody as impolite as this dwarf? Although, she supposed it made sense. His mark was in such an obvious place, that it was commented on by almost every hobbit that came across her. Because why would a hobbit be asking about weapons? (“Oh, goodness, dear, that one doesn’t look like he’s a hobbit. You’d better watch out.”) As she said earlier, hobbit children could be cruel, just as their families were. Of course Thorin would be the source of it. 

Tosser.

“Oh, obviously I’m quite proficient with all weapons. Bow, sword, you name it. As a hobbit, of course, I need to defend myself all the time – my neighbours are always out to get me, after all!” she said, sounding slightly hysterical. Gandalf gave her a disbelieving look, and she flushed.

Thorin stared, and a single, dark eyebrow rose. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining the shock in his eyes, because most people would be surprised to meet their soulmates, but this was a dwarf that managed to make standing completely still look majestic. Who knew if he felt mundane things such as shock? She saw his eyes pause on her collarbone and then widen. If her gaze became a little more challenging after that, well, who was to know?

After a few moments of silence, Thorin finally said dryly, “Very impressive,” before moving past her to find the dining room. The rest of her soulmates all followed him through, with a few pausing to give her reassuring pats on the shoulder.

“You alright?” asked Fíli lowly, placing a steadying hand on her upper arm. She leant into his touch, and allowed herself to rest on him for a moment, wishing that she asleep in her bed, before she straightened up, and gave him a tight smile.

“Perfectly fine, thank you, Fíli. Why not go and join the others?” suggested Bilbo, and waited for a moment while he scrutinised her for any sign of distress, before he nodded and left, probably expecting her to follow behind him.

Bilbo let out a tired sigh, before going into the living room, and sinking into her father’s old armchair. She rested her head in her hands, and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples with her thumbs to try and soothe her headache.

She was too old for this.

“Bilbo, why not join us?” called out Gandalf from the dining room, and she let out a low groan, before forcing herself to get up. She could do this. That bloody dwarf could be as rude as he wanted, because she wasn’t going to be the polite hobbit she was raised as.

Before entering the dining room, she stopped by the kitchen to pick up the plate of food that she had set aside for Thorin. She then pushed back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and walked into the dining room, ready to face the dwarves again.

When she placed the plate down in front of Thorin (and she was very proud that she hadn’t given into the urge to slam it), who had taken a seat at the head of the table, he gave her a single nod of thanks, obviously still scrutinising her, perhaps wondering why Gandalf had chosen her to introduce him to. In return, she gave him a polite smile, with just a hint of disinterest.

She then took a seat next to dear Bofur, who had saved her a place at the end of the bench (right next to her least favourite dwarf, unfortunately), and settled a neutral gaze on Thorin as he spoke to the other dwarves about his problems with getting assistance from his kin.

“They say that this is our quest, and ours alone,” he said, brow furrowed. Bilbo wondered if that was his default expression.

“You’re going on a quest?” she murmured to Bofur, and he gave her an incredulous look.

“Of course we are! I was also under the impression that you were too. Didn’t Gandalf tell you?”

Levelling Gandalf with a glare that would have felled lesser men, Bilbo said through clenched teeth, “It must have slipped his mind.”

The wizard cleared his throat. “An oversight, I’m sure. Now, would you perhaps be willing to provide us with more light, my friend?” Bilbo harrumphed, but still got up to grab a candle, curiosity overpowering her annoyance.

Then, Gandalf began to speak about The Lonely Mountain, and about the dragon that had taken up residence in said mountain. Which was also the dwarves’ home.

Well, she could see how that could be an issue.

They continued on talking about the mountain, and then Gandalf brought out a key. Bilbo couldn’t actually see why this mattered to her, as rude as that sounded.

“And, sorry, what’ve I got to do with this, then?” asked Bilbo, managing not to let her irritation bleed into her words.

Thorin frowned at her. “Are you not to be our burglar?” At these words, all of the dwarves looked at her expectantly, and she gave them a look that was clearly questioning their sanity.

“Why on earth would I, a hobbit who has never stolen a thing in her life, become a burglar to face a dragon?” snapped Bilbo. The dwarves all began to mutter between themselves, probably at the inexperience of the ‘burglar’ that they wanted to hire.

“Oh, don’t underestimate yourself, Bilbo,” said Gandalf, quite cheerfully, and the dwarves stopped their whispering. “I believe that Father Maggot would disagree. Does he not miss his vegetables?”

Bilbo scowled at him, and said, “Those were carrots, and potatoes, not dragon-gold. Farmer Maggot and his scythe were no danger to me, unlike the beast residing in the mountain.”

“You’re also extremely light on your feet, and are able to pass unseen by most,” said Gandalf, ignoring the look of anger on the hobbit’s face. “And, the dragon will not have smelled a hobbit before, so he will be unlikely to kill you immediately.”

Bilbo sputtered, but Thorin gave her a considering glance. “Balin, give her the contract.”

As Balin reached over the table to hand it to her, Bilbo stood. “No, Gandalf, I have no interest in this sort of business.”

“Lass, just take the contract and look it over,” said Balin, with an encouraging smile. 

“You do realise that nobody’s expecting you to actually fight the dragon, right?” said Kíli, dark eyes glimmering with amusement, and Bilbo frowned at him.

“Stealing from them, fighting them, it all ends in the same way,” said Bofur, and Gandalf gave him a blatantly unfriendly look.

“You’re not helping.”

Bofur held his hands up in surrender, and, finally, Bilbo took the contract, while Balin gave a basic explanation of what the contract included. When he began to speak of funeral arrangements, she quietly excused herself, ignoring the several concerned glances, because what she needed more than anything was a good smoke, and perhaps a nice cup of tea.

“Bilbo? Ah, there you are. Is there any chance that you have any of that excellent pipeweed for me?” said Gandalf as he pulled a pipe from one of his many pockets.

“Perhaps,” said Bilbo, rather petulantly, because goodness knows she was sick of this wizard and his silly games. She took a puff of her pipe, and closed her eyes. Longbottom Leaf was excellent for the nerves.

The wizard frowned at her, and said, “What happened to you, Bilbo Baggins? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who’d stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. What has changed now?”

“I’ve grown up, Gandalf,” sighed Bilbo. “I’m a Baggins, of Bag End, it wouldn’t be respectable.”

He gave a loud snort, and said, “You never used to care about respectability.” After a moment of contemplative silence, he continued with, “All of your soulmates are coming on this journey. Would you really want to leave them to face a dragon alone? Never knowing if they were alive or dead? Simply waiting here, in your comfortable hobbit hole, wondering if they would ever come back?”

Bilbo’s fingers clenched around her pipe, and she fought the urge to growl like Bifur. “Don’t ever presume to use my soulmates against me, Gandalf,” she said, a tight set to her mouth. “I’m so, so grateful to have met them, but they don’t have anything to do with myself and the choices that I make.”

Gandalf stood, and tucked away his unlit pipe. After sending a nod in her direction, he left her sitting there, smoking, and wondering if she was making the correct decision.

A few minutes later, heavy footsteps were heard coming into the room, and Bilbo held back a sigh. It was one of the dwarves, obviously, because nobody else would make that much noise.

She wished that she had met her soulmates under less threatening circumstances.

To her surprise, the dwarf that stood in front of her was Thorin, looking vaguely uncomfortable, and a little sheepish. “Mistress Baggins?”

She pinned him with a steady gaze, and watched him shift uneasily in his large boots. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat, and said, “I wished to offer you my apologies. The way I acted towards you tonight was unacceptable, especially since we’re ones, and I ask for your forgiveness, though I have given you no reason to give it to me.” Ones? That must be the dwarven term for soulmate. Bilbo gave him a nod of encouragement, and he continued with a stiff formality. “I give you my sincere thanks for feeding and housing my company. If you choose not to accompany us on our journey, you will be recompensed for your efforts.”

A flash of anger crossed onto her face. “I don’t need to be recompensed, Master Dwarf. They are all parts of my soul. It’s what any decent hobbit would do.”

Thorin merely nodded at her. She huffed, and gestured for him to sit in the chair beside her, taking an impatient puff of her pipe. They sat in silence for a while, her listening to the low hum of chatter coming from the dining room, and him watching Bilbo attempt to make shapes with the smoke.

“I accept your apology,” she finally said. “You’ve obviously been travelling for a while. I can see how you would be disgruntled to see somebody as clearly incompetent as me being promoted as a burglar.”

He frowned at her, and said, “I don’t believe you to be incompetent. On the contrary, you seem quite capable. I simply worry of your safety on the quest. You can’t fight, and therefore cannot defend yourself from any threats, and I while we will all try to protect you, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

Bilbo understood where he was coming from, but all his words were doing was making her want to prove herself. Damn her silly pride. “Teach me, then. Teach me to defend myself, and perhaps I won’t be such a burden.”

Thorin turned to her, and hesitantly took one of her hands in his. She couldn’t say that she disliked the feeling of her hand being clasped between his large, calloused ones, as the warm feeling of comfort seeped into her bones.

She got the feeling that even though they had only just met, he would protect her until his last breath.

“It would please the Company and I greatly if you would join us on this journey. It will be dangerous, and some parts will not be enjoyable, but I should certainly like to get to know you better, and I don’t believe that we will see each other again if we leave without you. If we succeed with our task, then you would always have a home in Erebor.” Thorin’s eyes were steady, but hopeful, as he looked at her, waiting for a response. When none came for a while, he murmured, “After all, whom can you trust better than a soulmate?”

Bilbo closed her eyes for a few seconds, before opening them again with a sigh. 

Bloody dwarves.

“Where’s the sodding contract, then?”

**Author's Note:**

> So. This fic was a little disconnected, but it is in the order of when she meet each soulmate throughout the night. I've been wanting to do platonic soulmates for a while now, because I think that it would totally change the way that the company acted around Bilbo, and how she acted around them, so that's why she's maybe a little more relaxed, and why the dwarves don't chuck her dishes around. imo dwarves would've been raised with the whole 'soulmates are blessings and are to respected' and all that, so they definitely would've toned it down throughout the night.
> 
> I also imagine that Nori and Bilbo become much closer after the burglar thing is explained, and that they often laugh over their silly meeting, because not all of the first meetings could go so well!
> 
> Might be showing my favouritism towards Fíli a bit in this fic, because I think he would be an amazing soulmate to Bilbo, and if I were to add more onto this fic, they would probs be endgame.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope I did the characters justice, and if you have any questions about it feel free to ask :)


End file.
